


The thrill of the chase.

by IAmTheNightman98



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Also just assume everyone is a lesbian, F/F, I'm Bad At Tagging, Kinky, Lesbian AU, Light BDSM, Office Sex, Smut, Stalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-05-22
Packaged: 2020-03-09 18:35:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18922741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmTheNightman98/pseuds/IAmTheNightman98
Summary: Brooke is the co-executive of one of the largest stockbroking firms in the city. She should be focused on how to solve the problem of one of the junior teams causing a massive, irretrievable loss of client assets.But instead, all she can focus on is the loud mouthed, young, new recruit. This girl has an agenda. She wants something from Brooke.And Brooke has a feeling that what she wants isn't a promotion.





	The thrill of the chase.

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of an experimental style so please stick with it if you can! Feel free to let me know if you like/hate it in the comments. Feedback and constructive criticism is welcome. 
> 
> Also I have no beta so please excuse any minor mistakes.

**_Brooke_ **

 

She’s there again. 

 

Brooke is having her morning coffee in the shop across from the office building when she sees her. The woman is pretending to look over the deli counter, attempting to blend in. 

 

She’s hard to miss. 5”2, fluttering eyelashes, long brown hair with bouncing curls - she’s fucking gorgeous. She thinks a baggy, black hooded jumper and sunglasses will hide her. 

 

She’s not hidden. Just as she wasn’t last weekend in the bar, or across the street from the nail salon, or outside Brooke’s house when she put the garbage out last night. The garbage that had been open and rummaged through when she went back out this morning. 

 

The petite woman seems to be pretending she hasn’t seen Brooke staring, but her face is a little red. Her breathing is a little quicker. 

 

Brooke narrows her face into a scowl, gathers her things, and heads for the office. 

 

**_Vanessa_ **

 

A deep blush sweeps her forehead and chest. Suddenly, her breathing is shallow. When Brooke walks past her, Vanessa’s lashes flutter rapidly. The sharp scent of the tall woman’s perfume envelops her as her body grazes Vanessa’s. It’s hard to keep eyes on the counter in front of her. 

 

Brooke’s scent lingers. Vanessa waits for the squeak of the glass door opening, then counts to three before turning. She catches a glance of Brooke as she crosses the street to the office building, her expensive, perfectly tailored, slate grey coat flowing softly with the breeze. Her legs are impossibly long, and the stiletto heels she wears only accentuates her perfect form. She’s like a living, breathing, barbie doll. 

 

Vanessa turns back to the counter and catches the eye of one of the servers. “That woman.” She says, pointing out the window. “You see her? The blonde with the grey coat? What kind of coffee did she get?”

 

**_Brooke_ **

 

Her first meeting of the day is upstairs with Nina West in the penthouse conference room. It’s a weekly meeting between the two where they keep themselves updated on the various projects, or more often than not - problems, of the firm as a whole. Apparently, the junior end of the team is haemorrhaging money from a series of poor investments. It’s a massive fuck up. It is not something Brooke wants to deal with today. How can it be so hard for qualified stockbrokers to just do their fucking research? 

 

Nina is chipper as usual, viewing the dilemma as a learning experience. It’s easy for her to be so positive when she isn’t the one that’s going to have to fire somebody. Or multiple somebodies. 

 

She gets back to her office in a foul mood. There’s no time for pleasantries or small talk with her employees that she passes when there’s so much work to be done. It makes her seem like an icy bitch, but she’s too intelligent to care what other people think of her.  

 

After a few minutes of flipping through paperwork with gritted teeth, she decides to head to the bullpen and see whether any of the overly keen interns have found anything that can salvage this disaster. 

 

**_Vanessa_ **

 

She’s one of the lowest-level employees at W.E.R.K Global, fresh out of grad school. She’s savvy enough to be trusted to get things done, but ultimately dispensable. Just one of the anonymous new recruits, stuck at work until past midnight on most days, slaving to ensure her projections are correct. 

 

Her eyes glaze over as she stares at the squiggly lines on her computer screen. The colours of the graphs and charts blend into the world’s most boring kaleidoscope. She blindly reaches for her coffee mug and brings it to her lips, only to find it empty. The walk to get herself a refill is the most exercise she’s had all morning.

 

She’s in the small break room, gazing out of the window into the main office and stirring the fourth sweetener into her coffee, when she sees Brooke. 

 

She stands between the cubicles, dainty white silk shirt sleeves pushed up to her elbows, revealing the tattoos on her forearms. Towering over everyone. She’s magnificent. Her platinum blonde hair is styled into a sleek bob and her eyeliner is so sharp it could kill. The small gathering of interns and new recruits look up at her eagerly, thrusting crumpled paperwork towards her, trying to impress her. 

 

She’s good at that. Making people feel like they want to impress her. Feel like you want her to like you. But she doesn’t. She doesn’t  _ like _ anyone. 

 

Vanessa is sipping her coffee, watching Brooke dismiss an intern with a delicate flick of her wrist, when suddenly she turns her head and sees her. 

 

Seems to see only her. 

 

Vanessa looks away quickly and hides her blush by taking another sip.

 

**_Brooke_ **

 

The woman is looking at her again. Pink cheeks and big doe eyes. 

 

She’s a grad student, she thinks. Very low down, but by all accounts, quite impressive. She’s tenacious. Never afraid of hard work and late nights. Brooke’s never had occasion to work with her personally. 

 

Brooke tries to ignore her, but she can’t say the reverse is true. She’s watching Brooke’s every move, pretending to drink a cup of that cheap disgusting coffee that Ariel from HR thinks is good enough for their employees. 

 

If this woman isn’t careful, somebody is going to notice her. Brooke knows how these things work in an office - someone will start to talk. 

 

Brooke stares at her pointedly and she looks away. Scurries back to her desk. 

 

Then, she takes the printouts, that are most likely garbage, from her employees and heads back to her office with her heels clacking loudly as she does. She closes the blinds so that she can’t be watched. 

 

**_Vanessa_ **

 

She makes sure the black hoodie completely covers her thick curly hair. The street is dark, but the streetlights cast a soft amber glow over the concrete. She’s huddled away, out of sight, as even though nobody in this fancy ass neighbourhood is awake at this hour, you never know who might be watching. Her gloved hands carefully lift the lid of the trashcan, then nimble fingers work through the knots on the tightly sealed plastic bags. 

 

Vanessa had once seen on a detective programme that sifting through someone’s trash is a good way to see what type of person they are. 

 

Darkened banana skins. Apple cores. A package of organic strawberries. Almond milk. Pre-made falafel. Brooke is a vegan. Vanessa thinks that maybe it’s for health reasons, until she sees all the junk food wrappers. Maybe she does have a heart after all? The idea of Brooke the Battleaxe being environmentally and animal cruelty conscious warms her heart. But it really is unfair that someone who eats so much junk looks as good as she does. 

 

Next, she finds an empty bottle of shampoo. Even before she removes the cap, she can smell it. Tea tree. Lavender. Mint maybe? It’s crisp and cool. It makes Vanessa weak in the knees. She tears the label off the front of the bottle, shoves it into her pocket, and keeps digging. 

 

There’s an empty tub of protein powder, which is a gem of a discovery, but she’s not surprised. It’s nice to know Brooke puts a little effort into looking like a goddess. But what’s even nicer is the image of Brooke working out. Sweating. Panting. Vanessa’s breath hitches in her throat. Her eyes veer to the direction of Brooke’s house, towards the dark upstairs window of her bedroom. 

 

She chews on her lip nervously and drags her gaze away, but then takes a deep breath and looks back at front door, hand in pocket.  Her fingers curl around the key. 

 

**_Brooke_ **

 

Brooke works late. Tomorrow morning she has a meeting with Nina and the rest of upper management to discuss their strategy for handling the fuck up at the junior end. They can’t afford to lose any clients right now. It’s Brooke’s job to decide who’s getting fired. 

 

She’s not alone. Across the bullpen at the other end of the office, she sees that Scarlett’s light is on too. Brooke heads across the office to drop in on her, to make sure they aren’t wasting time by doing work that overlaps - only when she gets closer, she sees that Scarlett isn’t at her desk at all, it’s the tall, loud, peculiar new intern. Yvonne? Yvette? Yvie? Brooke can’t recall her name. Scarlet's hand is disappeared somewhere inside the young woman’s pencil skirt. 

 

She leaves them to it. 

 

As she crosses back through the bullpen, she passes her desk. Hers. The petite Latina. It’s messy. Piled high with notebooks and loose papers. An assortment of pens with gaudy pink pom poms on the end are crammed into a pot. God, it’s like the desk of a fucking twelve year old. 

 

In her trashcan there’s a disposable coffee cup, drizzling wasted coffee onto crumpled up papers and tissues. It looks to be still full. She see’s why. It’s her coffee - her morning special. Extra dark roast, extra espresso shot. No sugar. No creamer. Far too bitter for the girl with the frilly pink pens. 

 

She smirks in satisfaction.

 

**_Vanessa_ **

 

The next morning, Vanessa gets dressed in front of her mirror, grinning to herself as she slips on the shirt. The dark red linen tickles her nipples. The shirt is soft and pleasantly warm, as if just removed from  _ her  _ body. Vanessa’s face is pink as she smiles. It’s a little loose around the chest and when her arms slide through the sleeves, they’re too long. She lifts the collar to her nose and inhales deeply. 

 

There’s a faint note of tea tree that makes her nuzzle her nose against the fabric, purring in content. 

 

**_Brooke_ **

 

She wakes up at her desk, her face resting on a page of figures. 

 

A glance at her wrist watch tells her that the day has already begun. Ten minutes until the meeting. Fuck. She hasn’t even done half of the preparation she was planning. She doesn’t know who needs to get fired, doesn’t know who is to blame. She’ll decide in the moment. 

 

In the private bathroom of her office, she rubs the sleep from her eyes and touches up yesterday's makeup. So much for skincare. She combs her fingers through her short hair to neaten it and sprays it with a little fixer. Then, she changes into her spare suit. A sharp cut navy blue blazer and skirt combination with an orange shirt. The colour combination shouldn’t work. Brooke can pull it off with her confidence alone. In her experience, the first step in looking better than everyone else in the room is to believe that you do. 

 

Back in her office, she gathers up some paperwork from her desk. The papers are random, but it won’t hurt to make herself look like she’s done more preparation. Make it seem like whatever replaceable junior broker she’s about to suggest they fire deserves it. 

 

Nina the first person she sees in the conference room. Then A’keria and Shuga. Then Scarlet, looking as exhausted as Brooke feels. She resists the urge to flash her a knowing smirk. 

 

Then.  _ Her. _ Brooke’s gaze sharpens into anger. What the fuck is she doing here?

 

“Brooke.” Nina snaps her out of her thoughts. “This is one of our new recruits, Vanessa. She’s asked to observe the meeting for experience.” 

 

Vanessa flashes her a toothy, coy smile and thrusts her dainty hand towards her. “Lovely to meet you, Miss Brooke.” Her voice is brash and gravelly, in a stark contrast to everything else about her. 

 

Brooke shakes her hand. Squeezes a little too tightly when she sees those eyelashes flutter. “Excellent initiative, my dear.” 

 

As everyone takes their seats, Vanessa sits opposite Brooke. 

 

Of course she does. 

 

**_Vanessa_ **

 

It’s difficult not to stare at Brooke. Shuga is outlining her strategy for asset recovery following the poor investments at the junior end, but all the words blur into one. 

 

Brooke’s expression indicates tension and irritation. Vanessa’s foot aches to stretch out and stroke Brooke’s calf beneath the table. Maybe it would ease some of her displeasure. Vanessa crosses her legs and tightens her jaw. 

 

Blue is a good colour on her. Orange too. It emphasises the richness of her platinum blonde hair. The colour combination is risky, but Brooke doesn’t play it safe. She doesn’t stick within the lines, yet is somehow perfectly polished. She’s bold and self assured and doesn’t give a fuck what anyone thinks. Vanessa admires her for that. 

 

“Remember when we were first starting out and A’keria invested in that fabric company?” Shuga is addressing the room. “It looked like a sure shot but then the company ended up going under. Completely outa nowhere. We can do all the research and crunch all the number we want, but it’s no guarantee. We can’t blame the junior team for making the same mistakes we did.” 

 

Brooke’s icy glare intensifies. She’s impatient. Listening politely but waiting to pounce. She’s respectful of Shuga’s right to speak, but ultimately, her and Nina are going to make the final call. 

 

“Are you saying we just give them another chance to piss away our clients money? Drive us right out of business.” Scarlet asks and Brooke’s lip quirk upwards in approval. 

 

Shuga hesitates, but Nina jumps in to save her. “I think what she’s suggesting is that we use this as a teaching opportunity to help the company grow as a whole. We only hire the best of the best, they can recover from this.” 

 

“No.” Brooke interjects. “Somebody has to go for this. If we let these kind of sloppy mistakes go unchecked then there’s no saying what these kids will think they can get away with.” She looks at Vanessa pointedly. Vanessa’s breath catches in her throat. 

 

A’keria speaks up next. “I agree. Better to let one of them go rather than lose the company.” 

 

Brooke nods curtly in agreement, pursing her plump red lips. “It should be Silky.”

 

No. That doesn’t make sense. Silky has had nothing to do with this fuck up. Brooke’s made a mistake. A small noise of discontent escapes Vanessa’s lips before she can stop herself. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Brooke inhales sharply and glares at her. 

 

“Do you have something to add, Vanessa?” She quirks her eyebrow. Her eyes are piercing. Like a lioness stalking her prey.

 

Vanessa is flustered. All the eyes in the room are on her. If she says the wrong thing, her job is on the line. 

 

She knows exactly how to make Brooke pay for this. 

 

**_Brooke_ **

 

Vanessa’s eyes widen in shock. 

 

_ Come on, little lady, show me what you’ve got _ . 

 

“No, ma’am.” She shakes her head. 

 

Brooke narrows her eyes. She’s not going to let her off that easily. “Do you think I’m wrong, Vanessa?” She’s being cruel, she knows it. She loves it. Loves seeing Vanessa squirm with discomfort. 

 

“Silky is the only one of the junior brokers with a doctorate in finance. She has more skill than most of the other girls put together. And I know for a fact she had nothing to do with the poor investment choices that were made.”

 

Brooke runs her tongue slowly over her teeth as she stares into Vanessa’s eyes. Her breathing quickens. The little bitch is right. Brooke had said the first name that popped into her head and she’d made the wrong call. Not that she will admit that. 

 

“Need I remind you that you’re supposed to be an observer in this meeting?” 

 

Vanessa flutters her eyelashes innocently. “Sorry, Miss Brooke, I was only answering your question.” She slips off her suit jacket and lets it drape over the back of her chair. 

 

Brooke opens her mouth, ready to strain her vocal chords shouting at Vanessa for talking back to her, but closes it abruptly. She’s just noticed Vanessa’s shirt. 

 

It’s too big for her - she noticed that as soon as she saw her, but just supposed that not everyone can afford to have clothes tailored to them. Then she sees the thread count. The fabric is far too expensive for someone of her salary. Brooke had one just like it - lavish, Italian linen. It’s just like hers, in fact. 

 

Even down to the button on the cuff coming loose. She’s been meaning to sent it for repair. 

 

The little cunt is wearing Brooke’s shirt. 

 

Her shirt that should be hanging in the walk in closet, in her bedroom. She’d seen it just yesterday when she was dressing for work. 

 

A cold sweat drips down her back. Vanessa has been in her house. 

 

She’s been in her house and she wants her to know. Why else would she be wearing her shirt, right across from her, in a meeting that she wasn’t invited too?

 

Her eyes sweep down to the front of Vanessa’s shirt. She’s not wearing anything underneath it. The outline of her nipples is clearly visible through the fabric. Her left is pierced. Brooke feels a familiar heat pool between her legs and her breathing shallows. 

 

She’s suddenly aware that everyone is looking at her, waiting for her to say something. Vanessa has a small, cocky smile on her face. 

 

Brooke clears her throat. “Yes, you were.” She says breathlessly. Everyone look confused. “But that doesn’t mean you should… You don’t have the right to… I’m your boss and I um... “

 

**_Vanessa_ **

 

“Yes, Miss Brooke. I understand. I didn’t mean no disrespect.” Vanessa licks her lips and flutters her eyelashes once more. Brooke’s resolve is fading and Vanessa has her in the palm of her hand. 

 

Brooke’s jaw clenches and she straightens her back. 

 

“For what it’s worth, I think she’s right.” Nina interjects softly, breaking the moment. “Silky has been performing excellently. You may not like her, but you can’t deny she’s talented at what she does.”

 

“This isn’t about not liking her.” Brooke snaps, a little too defensively. She seems to be unwilling to admit that she’s made a mistake. She won’t go down without a fight. 

 

Scarlet speaks again next. “What about Raja? She’s slipped up a few times?” 

 

A’keria shakes her head. “She’s been working with me, it couldn’t have been her.  Maybe Yvie?”

 

“No. Not her.” Scarlet says quickly. Brooke rolls her eyes. 

 

“Seems like you ain’t got nobody to blame.” Vanessa says before she even realises her mouth is open. Damn her lack of filter.

 

Brooke glares back at her once more, more fierce this time. “Didn’t I tell you to stop talking?” 

 

“Sorry, Miss Brooke, I just said what came into my mind. I ain't too good at bottling up my feelings.”

 

**_Brooke_ **

 

There’s no misunderstanding here. She’s been in her house. 

 

In Brooke’s home office, in the centre of the desk, there is a business card for a local therapist office. Nothing too serious, it’s just something Brooke’s been thinking about. They say everyone can benefit from a little therapy. 

 

_ Do you have a problem with bottling up your feelings?  _ The business card reads. 

 

She should call Vanessa out on it. She should fire her on the spot, have her escorted from the building by security. She should call the police and have her arrested for breaking and entering. 

 

Instead, she feels weak in the knees. Her nipples tighten and she has to cross her legs to ease the discomfort of her arousal. “Since you seem to think you know more about my company than me, I want you to email me a list of names of the people you think are responsible for this fuck up.” She relishes in the look of fear on Vanessa’s face. “If you don’t, I’m firing you.” 

 

Vanessa’s mouth is hanging agape. She shuts it, purses her lips and nods slowly. “I’ll have it on your desk by the end of the day.”

 

Nina is looking at her like she’s gone mad. 

 

Brooke makes her excuses and practically runs for for her office. She dashes into the private bathroom and slams the door shut behind her. Grips the edge of the porcelain sink with one hand and thrusts the other into her skirt. She’s dripping wet. 

 

She strokes herself to the wild fantasy of the small, sexy latina - her nipples against the soft fabric of Brooke’s shirt. Brooke’s going to teach her a lesson in respect one of these days. 

 

**_Vanessa_ **

 

As discussed, she heads to Brooke’s, but its empty. The space is like a physical manifestation of everything Brooke alludes it’s sleek and sharp. Expensive. High class. The carpet is a smoky crimson and her desk is a deep, dark mahogany. There’s abstract artwork on the wall, seemingly random strokes of white and grey on a black background. It’s intimidating. 

 

There’s nothing in here of the Brooke she knows. 

 

The Brooke that buys strawberry scented, cruelty free body wash. The Brooke that fills out the crossword puzzles in the daily newspaper, and crumples them up angrily when she can’t finish them. The real Brooke is soft and pure - Vanessa is sure of it. 

 

She has brought a folder to keep up appearances, so that it seems she’s dropping off the list of names Brooke had demanded from her, but the folder is empty. Vanessa knows Brooke’s threat was an empty one. 

 

Vanessa sighs softly. Brooke isn’t here. She can’t wait for long, or people will start to talk. She has to be careful. She might have Brooke right where she wants her, but the other managers might not look too favourably on her… special interest in Miss Hytes. 

 

That doesn’t mean she can’t leave her a gift though, Vanessa thinks with a devilish grin. 

 

**_Brooke_ **

 

She washes her hands and re-adjusts her clothes, then takes a long hard look at herself in the mirror. If this thing with Vanessa doesn’t come to a head soon, she may spontaneously combust with frustration. 

 

When she leaves the bathroom, she finds Yvie Oddly waiting for her. Sitting across from her desk with a furious expression on her face. 

 

“Why was Vanjie invited to the morning meeting but none of the rest of us?” She says before Brooke even has the chance to sit down. 

 

“Who?”

 

“Vanessa.”

 

Brooke scoffs and rolls her eyes at the nickname, in a way that is very unlike herself. “She asked.” Brooke says bluntly, sitting down at her desk and typing in her computer password as though Yvie isn’t there. 

 

“Well that’s not fair.” Fuck, this girl sounds like a petulant child. “She’s getting special treatment.” 

 

Brooke inhales sharply and turns to her. She’s turned a blind eye to the fact that Scarlet regularly let’s Yvie go home early. To the fact that she always seems to have first dibs on the best accounts. To the three separate complaints about Yvie’s attitude that Scarlet managed to sweep silently under the carpet. So for Yvie to come in here running her mouth about Vanessa getting invited to one extra meeting, it’s fucking rich. 

 

Brooke delivers her best, all knowing glare and quirks her lips up into a smirk. “Looks like you’ve bruised your neck a little there, hmm?” It’s a hickey. Brooke is making it very clear that she knows everything. 

 

Yvies smile falters momentarily before she leans forwards in her chair. “I’m not scared of you, Miss Hytes.”

 

“You fucking should be.” 

 

Yvie’s face flashes with fear. She looks like she might cry. Brooke sighs and lets her raised, tension filled shoulders fall. “Look, Yvie, if you want to get ahead in this game you’ve got to take the initiative and work hard.”

 

“I do-” 

 

“Don’t tell me, show me.” 

 

“Do you have any extra work I can do for you, Miss Hytes?” 

 

Brooke smiles and nods back at her. That’s more like it. “It’s not much, but there’s a new algorithm for day time trading that I’ve yet to dummy run on our computer system. If you want to take a look at it you’re welcome to.”

 

Yvie nods her head gratefully. 

 

When Brooke opens her top desk drawer for the papers, she sees something laying on top. Something red. Something that’s definitely not paper. Something that looks distinctly like lace. 

 

The fucking slut.

 

Brooke slams the desk drawer shut quickly. “I’ll email you the details.” She stammers, her face burning. 

 

Once Yvie has left her office, she opens the drawer once more. Just as she suspected - it’s a pair of panties. Bright red, lacy. 

 

That means she’s been in here at some point between Brooke entering the bathroom and Yvie’s arrival. She works quickly. And if Brooke’s not mistaken, unless Vanessa regularly carries around a spare pair of panties, this means she’s currently parading around the office commando. 

 

**_Vanessa_ **

 

Brooke will not be home for another hour. That’s plenty of time, she decides, as she picks up a pretty silver photo frame from a glass end table. 

 

She’s always been beautiful, Vanessa discovers. Her eyes soften at the image of a little blonde girl, wearing a Canadian flag as a cape and proudly showing off a new pair of ballet shoes. Beautiful and happy. Brooke hardly smiles at work, but she’s smiling in this photograph. Maybe she would smile for Vanessa. 

 

Vanessa has committed the layout of Brooke’s house to memory and as she walks the halls, she knows exactly where she’s going. 

 

Her bedroom has the direct opposite mood to her office. The latter is forbidding and intimidating. Its harsh and cold. But here, the walls are soft cream and the drapes are lightweight and a soft, ice-blue with faint silver patterns on the cloth. The furniture is an eclectic mix of antiques and contemporary. It’s elegant, yet surprisingly messy. This is the Brooke Hytes she knows. 

 

With a sigh, Vanessa toes off her shoes and stretches out on the bed. It’s soft. She turns to press her face into Brooke’s crisp white pillow and breathes in the clean, fresh scent. Being in her bed, sinking into the mattress where she usually lies, it’s all too much. Her nipples are painfully tight, craving the soft touch of a warm mouth. She should get out. This is torture. 

 

But she doesn’t. Instead she decides to take a peek into the drawer of the bedside table. Half a pack of xanax. A pair of diamond stud earrings. An invite to a baby shower with the decline option on the RSVP checked, but not yet sent. Then - oh.

 

_ Oh. _

 

This is very interesting. 

 

Vanessa groans and checks her watch. She has time. 

 

She pulls off her jacket, her eyes burning with excitement, then wiggles her tight, short skirt up to her hips. 

 

**_Brooke_ **

 

It’s almost midnight by the time she gets home. She’s mentally and physically exhausted. There’s no time for the gym tonight - she probably won’t even cook. She’ll just work her way through a full pack of oreos and two cups of green tea before passing out in bed. 

 

As soon as she open the front door, she knows something is different. The house smells different. The doormat is askew. The alarm is turned off too. 

 

How does she know the code? In retrospect, it was probably stupid to use her birthday. 

 

The little minx is good at this. Things are different, but not enough that she can be certain. Not enough that she can call the police and say she’s had a break in. 

 

The picture frames are in the wrong places. The fine layer of dust on her bookshelf has been disturbed. There’s a smudged fingerprint on the sliding glass doors to the patio that wasn’t there before. 

 

In the kitchen, there’s a glass in the sink with a lipstick stain on it, in the exact plum shade that Vanessa was wearing in today’s meeting. 

 

Brooke is pretty sure she had made her bed, but the covers are thrown back now - there’s a damp stain in the middle of the sheets. She’s been here tonight. In this bed. 

 

It really, really shouldn’t, but the puddle excites Brooke. She’s never fucked a woman that gets so wet before. The idea of burying her face in an insanely drenched, dripping cunt has her straining for breath. The thought of Vanessa sitting on her face, drowning her…

 

Brooke is already palming her breast needily through her shirt, desperate for some friction. Now, she yanks off her jacket, kicks away her shoes and makes fast work of her skirt. She’s going to come right where Vanessa did, if she can last that long. 

 

Then, of the corner of her eye, she sports something glinting on her bedside table. It’s her bullet vibrator with a chrome finish. The one she keeps in her bedside drawer for when she’s feeling particularly horny. It’s been used… recently. 

 

Brooke almost loses it. Almost reaches for her phone. If she calls HR, asks for her private number and claims it’s an emergency - fuck, Vanessa could be here in under half an hour. Maybe sooner. Brooke could have her pinned beneath her, hands on her tits, face in her cunt. 

 

Something tells her that Vanessa wouldn’t want that, though. Something tells her she can do better. 

 

**_Vanessa_ **

 

After her adventures in Brooke’s apartment, Vanessa takes a long, soothing bath. The bath relaxes her, but does nothing to cure the insatiable hunger that has taken root inside of her. Moaning Brooke’s name in her bed, coming all over her vibrator, it was amazing. Just not enough. She craves the feel of Brooke’s skin on hers. Brooke’s sharp tongue thrashing around her cunt. 

 

She’s just about to get into bed and dip her fingers beneath the waistband of her shorts when her phone pings beside her. She gasps in surprise when she sees the notification. 

 

_ Email from Brooke Lynn Hytes  _

 

Fuck. 

 

Her eyes don’t leave the phone as she sits on the edge of her bed, heart racing, mouth dry. She swipes a finger across the screen. 

 

From: Brooke Lynn Hytes 

Subject: Urgent. 

 

_ Miss Mateo,  _

 

_ Please see my in my office at 1pm for a disciplinary meeting.  _

 

_ Failure to attend will result in your immediate dismissal. _

 

Oh no. Vanessa’s chest tightens. She’s taken it too far. Tears prick at the corners of her eyes but she blinks them away. No, there’s still time to salvage this. 

 

To: Brooke Lynn Hytes

From: Vanessa Mateo 

Subject: Re: Urgent. 

 

_ Understood, Miss Hytes. But can I ask what this is for? _

 

The reply comes through just minutes later. 

 

From: Brooke Lynn Hytes

Subject: Re: Re: Urgent 

 

_ Nobody walks away from me. _

 

**_Brooke_ **

 

The next morning, Brooke stops for her coffee as she usually does, in the shop across the street from their office block. Extra dark roast. Extra espresso. No milk. No sugar. As she pays, she leans over to the guy behind the counter. 

 

“There’s going to be woman in here soon. You can’t miss her. Small, latina girl. Brunette. Face of an angel, voice of a shark. She’s going to order the same thing I just did.”

 

The guy shrugs in response. Brooke sighs sharply. 

 

“When she orders, give her this.” She slides the envelope over the counter along with twenty. “This is for her coffee, too. Keep the change.” 

 

“Sure.”

 

“Thanks.” 

 

Brooke then takes her seat, watching the door. Waiting for her. She wants to see her face. 

 

**_Vanessa_ **

 

“Hold on, Mary. What do you mean you got a package for me?”

 

The guy behind the counter sighs. “Looks, some woman just told me to give this to you, alright? She paid for your coffee, too.” 

 

Vanessa’s eyes narrow. “What woman?”

 

He shrugs. “A tall, hot, blonde?”

 

Her lips grin into a grin as she holds out her hand for the package.

 

When she finds a table, she takes one sip of the coffee and grimaces. Disgusting. Unfit for human consumption. Her eyes then rest on the bulky envelope on the table. She tears open the seal. 

 

It contains something soft. She lifts the flap to look inside and jumps back, almost slamming her back into the person behind her. 

 

“Hey!” The person mutters. 

 

“My bad.” She says quickly, staring at the envelope in disbelief. 

 

It’s a pair of panties, garter and matching stockings. Red, like the ones she’d left in Brooke’s desk drawer, but much more luxurious. They’re expensive, that’s for sure. 

 

A small, handwritten note is squeezed down the side.  _ Put these on. Or else.  _

 

Vanessa’s face is hot. Her nipples thrust painfully against her thin bra. She’s dripping wet. 

 

When she’s finished her coffee, she’s going to have to dash to the bathroom and get herself off. It will be quick, and not very good, but there’s no way she can last being this horny until 1pm. 

 

**_Brooke_ **

 

Watching Vanessa going from flustered, to horny, to frustrated all in the span of a few seconds is everything she didn’t know she needed. It’s tantalising. 

 

It serves her right. If she’s going to act like a naughty little slut, Brooke is going to treat her like one. 

 

The skimpiest, red lace panty set they had in the local sex store seemed to be the right choice. Little does Vanessa know, that wasn’t the only purchase she made. No, this one she’s going to leave on Vanessa’s desk. 

 

**_Vanessa_ **

 

The morning seminar on damage control, lead by Shuga, should be something that Vanessa pays very close attention to. But she can’t. All she can think about is Brooke. Brooke, and the feel of the silky soft new panties brushing her cunt. 

 

Her entire body tingles with anticipation. 

 

When she gets back to her desk, ready to grab her bag and leave for her lunch break, she sees a box. 

 

Small, square and black, tied with a crimson ribbon. She pulls the bow loose then quickly glances around to make sure she’s alone, as she imagines nobody can see what is inside. 

 

She admires Brooke’s boldness. HR specifically emphasises that relations between staff members are discouraged. And inside is something that, if taken the wrong way, could definitely be construed as sexual harassment. 

 

But Vanessa smiles and runs her hands over smooth leather of the handcuffs. There is a second note on top. 

 

_ Don’t forget your disciplinary. 1pm.  _

 

**_Brooke_ **

 

She’s been trying to work all morning. Trying and failing. Her constant, pounding arousal is killing her. 

 

She sighs deeply then turns in her office chair to look out of the floor-to-ceiling windows that give her a perfect view of the city. The drizzly rain, the grey buildings, the traffic. 

 

There’s someone in her office. 

 

She hears the door squeak shut, unsure of how she didn’t hear it open in the first place, then the lock clicks into place. 

 

Endgame. 

 

“Our meeting isn’t for another hour.” She says without turning around. She can hear the soft clack of Vanessa’s heels, muffled by the carpet, as she walks closer. 

 

Something made of fabric drops to the floor. “I know, Mami.” Vanessa purrs. 

 

There’s the unmistakable sound of a zipper. Brooke turns round just in time to see Vanessa’s skirt drop to the floor and pool round her feet. “You fucking whore.” Brooke breathes out, shaking her head in disbelief. 

 

Vanessa walks towards her, naked from the waist up. As instructed, she’s wearing her new panties and stockings. Other than her heels, she wears nothing else. 

 

Brooke licks her lips in anticipation, but when Vanessa rounds the desk and stops in front of her, Brooke pushes her chair backwards. She holds out her hand expectantly, raising her eyebrow as Vanessa chews on her lower lip and drops the leather handcuffs onto her palm. “Turn around.” She growls. 

 

She has Vanessa bent over her desk before she has a chance to gasp, restraining her wrists in the cuffs behind her back. Brooke runs her finger around the inner rim of both cuffs to make sure that they aren’t digging in anywhere, then pins Vanessa down with one arm. She squirms in anticipation, but Brooke holds her still. She leans down and runs her tongue from Vanessa’s lower back up the length of her spine. 

 

“Try not to scream.”

 

“Yes, Mami.”

 

Brooke pulls away, runs her fingernails down Vanessa’s back, then taps her ass with a gentle slap. 

 

Vanessa moans. 

 

“Do you know why you’re in trouble?”

 

Vanessa shakes her head stubbornly, so Brooke spanks her again, eliciting another moan. 

 

“You broke into my house, didn’t you?”

 

“Yes, Mami.” 

 

Another spank. 

 

“You stole my shirt and used my vibrator to fuck yourself in my bed.”

 

_ “Lo siento, Mami.”  _

 

Another spank, harder this time. Vanessa squeaks in surprise. 

 

“Did you think of me while you did it, you little slut?”

 

She doesn’t spank her this time. She slips her hand between Vanessa’s legs and grazes her cunt through her panties. Vanessa fucking whimpers. 

 

“Answer the question.” 

 

Vanessa wriggles, trying to generate more friction. Brooke could be cruel and pull her hand away, but instead she rubs her harder. Feeling her slickness through the material. 

 

“Yes, Miss Brooke. I thought of you.” 

 

“Good girl.” Brooke purrs. She moves the lace material to the side and slips one long finger inside of her. She pumps it back and forth a few times, then slides in another. 

 

Brooke leans down close to Vanessa’s ear whilst she fucks her roughly with her fingers. “Tell me you’re mine.” Brooke growls against her throat. She sucks on her skin so hard it will leave a bruise. 

 

“I’m yours.” Vanessa breathes out. 

 

“Louder.”

 

“I’m yours. I belong to you. I’m yours.”

 

Brooke moves her other hand around to rub Vanessa’s clit. It’s sloppy and uncoordinated, but Vanessa cries out her name none the less. The desk shakes violently. If it were anything less than solid wood, Brooke would fear it would collapse. 

 

“Harder.” Vanessa begs.  _ “Por favor, Mami. Follame mas duro.”  _

 

Vanessa comes with a cry so loud, Brooke has to clamp her hand over her mouth, stroking her softly as she rides out her orgasm. She gives her a moment to regain her breath and Vanessa slumps against the desk. 

 

Patience has never been Brooke’s strong suit. 

 

She tugs on Vanessa’s restrained wrists. “Get on your knees.” 

 

“Ain’t you going to let my hands free first?”

 

“No. You’ll only be needing your mouth for this.”

 

Vanessa’s tongue in her cunt is deep and savage. Brooke’s fingers are tangled in Vanessa’s hair, pulling her impossibly closer. It’s feverish and artless. Her clit is going to be swollen for weeks after this. Even with her hands tied behind her back, Vanessa is about to make Brooke come harder than she ever has before. 

 

She bites down on her lip so hard to stop herself from screaming that she draws blood. The salty metallic taste fills her mouth. 

 

“Fuck. Don’t stop, Nessa.” Brooke begs. She’d never begged for anything before. 

 

Desperate for deeper contact, she lifts her leg and hooks it over Vanessa’s shoulder. The ballet classes she took as a kid help her to keep her balance even in her skyscraper heels. She tightens her grip on Vanessa’s hair as she comes. Vanessa sucks her clean whilst she pants, riding out her orgasm. 

 

Her quickened breathing slows down. Her legs weaken as Vanessa pulls her face out of her cunt and stands to face her. Brooke reaches behind her back and unfastens one side of the cuffs, letting the material hang loosely off her other wrist, then falls back into her chair, pulling Vanessa into her lap. 

 

“Shit.” Brooke breathes, curling her arms around Vanessa and dropping a kiss onto her forehead. 

 

Vanessa grins, a wide toothy grin of pure naughtiness. “Well, I guess we can say the stalker game was a success?”

 

-

 

**_Brooke_ **

 

She’s lucky that her office chair fits both of them, just about. Their arms are tangled together and Vanessa’s head rests against Brooke’s naked chest, with her legs draped over the armrest. Brooke traces idle patterns on Vanessa’s naked thigh. 

 

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

 

“No, baby.” Vanessa tells her softly. “Besides, even if you did, I know the safe word.”

 

Brooke chuckles as she recalls how surprised she’d been when Vanessa picked ‘cookies’ as their safe word. 

 

“You know, Brooky, you really had me going with that first email. I thought my ass was about to get fired for real when you used your work account insteada just calling me.” 

 

“I thought it would be more authentic.” Brooke smirks, tickling her side. 

 

“You know, you broke character again.”

 

“Hmm?”

 

“When we were fuckin, you called me Nessa. Brooke the hardass would never call me Nessa.” 

 

Brooke blushes and buries her face in Vanessa’s hair. Every time they role play, Brooke will break character in the heat of the moment. She’ll call her Nessa, or kiss her tenderly, or say something romantic. She just can’t help it. “Sorry, baby.”

 

“It’s sweet. I like it.” Vanessa tells her, pressing soft kisses along her jaw, stirring something inside of Brooke once more. 

 

“Ness.” She groans, then pulls away. “We can’t. I have to get dressed for a meeting soon.” Vanessa whimpers against her neck. “Sorry, baby.”

 

Vanessa sighs and nuzzles into Brooke’s shoulder. “Do I get to come home tonight or do I gotta spend the night at my place again?”

 

Brooke feels a lump in her throat. They’ve only been together for just over five months, but Vanessa already spends most nights at Brooke’s house. She calls it home. 

 

“Yes baby, you can come home”

 

The game they’d been playing for the past week was exactly what she needed to deal with the increased pressures at work, the perfect distraction, but now, she’s ready to go back to ordinary life with her girlfriend. 

 

Seven months ago, Brooke met a sexy, loud, hilarious woman in a club. They danced and laughed and talked all night long. Tumbled into Brooke’s king sized bed together that same night. Brooke had never felt such an instant connection with someone. Instead of just rolling to separate sides of the bed to sleep, awkwardly exchanging numbers and never talking again - like a regular one night stand - this had been different. 

 

Brooke found herself telling Vanessa about how she’s spent so long perpetuating an image of herself as being a cold, heartless bitch, that she worried her emotions would never be taken seriously by anyone  again. In return, Vanessa told her about how she’d always struggled to get people to see past her loud, brash personality and view her as more than just a joke. 

 

They talked about their childhoods. Their dreams. Their fears. 

 

They talked until the sun came up. 

 

Then in the morning, on that bright spring day, they walked hand in hand around the park, feeding the ducks in the lake. 

 

The problem came three weeks later when Brooke had a gaggle of new recruits shown to her office during orientation. Vanessa had been amongst them. After they left, Brooke had a panic attack in the bathroom. 

 

Vanessa had called her that night, swearing that she didn’t know who Brooke was before they started dating. Brooke believed her, but had pushed her away regardless. Vanessa had seen the side of her that nobody else knows about. She has a reputation in the workplace to uphold. She couldn’t sacrifice that. 

 

But staying away from Vanessa had been too hard. Brooke lasted only two weeks before calling Vanessa in the dead of night, pleading for another chance. 

 

They’ve been together ever since. 

 

The sneaking around, whilst exciting, is sometimes exhausting. She can’t wait for the day when she can finally tell people they’re together and stop hiding. It will be when Vanessa gets a promotion, or when she eventually moves in with her, whichever comes first. At this rate though, Brooke expects it to be the latter. It’s not that Vanessa isn’t brilliant at her job, because she truly is, it’s that Brooke is considering giving Vanessa a key to her house when she takes her out for dinner next week. It will only be a matter of time after that. 

 

The pressures of work, of hiding, of feeling like she has two personalities - Work Brooke and Vanessa’s Brooke (the real Brooke) - it’s all frustrating at times. Their relationship is far from perfect. 

 

But sometimes, two people can find love in the most unexpected places. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Since its me, I couldn't resist adding the fluff at the end. I hope it didn't seem to heavy handed!


End file.
